


A Wolf by Any Other Name

by mommymuffin



Series: Shakespeare Was a Wolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cursed Derek, Developing Relationship, Hint at Magic Stiles, M/M, Mama Stilinski Feels, Sexy Times, Stilinski Family Feels, Witches, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mommymuffin/pseuds/mommymuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets turned into a wolf by a witch. Naturally, he expects Stiles to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wolf by Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> This got way longer than I expected it to. I probably could have put in more, but decided to post it instead of letting it torture me any longer. Maybe I'll right a sequel to put the rest of it down. Maybe.
> 
> Anyway. I wanted to write some Wolf Derek. So, here ya go.

Stiles trotted up the steps to his porch, backpack bouncing heavily on his back, the books within threatening to bruise if given the proper momentum. Coming to a stop in front of the locked door, he dug in his pocket to retrieve the key to his home. He almost had the key turned in the lock when the biggest, blackest, (only) wolf he had ever seen stepped onto the porch.

Two inches away from him. 

To say that Stiles flailed before he hit the ground in the most spectacular display of falling down the world has ever seen would be a gross understatement. 

“Ohmi—GOD.” 

Stiles scuttled away from the wolf out of sheer instinct. Then, he paused to look at it. 

It was glaring at him. 

Rather familiarly. 

Not to mention it wasn’t attacking him, or even making signs of attacking him. It was just sitting there. Glaring.

“Okay...I’m just going out on a limb here, but...Derek?”

The wolf snorted and cocked his head to the side as if to say “duh.” 

“Hey. You don’t have to be rude about it. Why are you a wolf? Like a regular, ole wolf, not an also-walks-on-two-legs wolf of the were-persuasion.” 

Stiles was sure he saw annoyance cross the wolf’s eyes. But, he didn’t respond. 

There was a moment while Derek let Stiles figure it out. 

“You’re stuck like this...aren’t you?”

Yes. That was definitely annoyance in those bright green eyes. 

Stiles glanced around. It was late. There was no around to see him talking to a wolf. But, still. He figured going inside might be a better idea than carrying on this conversation in front of his house for all the world to see. Or his neighbors, at least. 

Everyone already thought he was weird enough. No need to encourage them. 

“Let’s go inside for this, shall we?” Stiles said and resumed unlocking the door. 

Derek trotted in after him and Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little. A werewolf stuck as a wolf.

Derek was not amused when he snickered. 

“C’mon. My room. Dad shouldn’t be home tonight, but you never know. He might swing by to pick up a change of clothes or a file he forgot or something” 

Stiles dropped his backpack and immediately started pulling out books of a nature significantly different from the normal contents of a school bag.

“Let me guess...you managed to piss off that witch that has been wandering around the woods recently. So, she ironically turned you into a wolf. Now, you’re just a regular wolf. And you’re stuck.” 

Stiles glanced at Derek. He was as angry and brooding as ever, even as an animal, but he wasn’t disagreeing. 

“I am correct. And you came to me, because if anyone can reverse a witch’s curse, it’s going to be me, since you little werewolves can’t work magic.” 

A pause. 

“Plus, I’m the only one smart enough to figure out that you’re you in addition to how you got this way.” 

Derek made a noise that could be considered the wolf-version of a sigh. 

With a smile Stiles said, “I am correct, again. Kinda sad I’m really the only option you have.”

Derek was giving him a weird look. Or at least Stiles thought he was. Little harder to tell on a wolf. Yet somehow Derek’s eyebrows were still as expressive as ever, even though they were blending into his fur. 

“So, I guess the best place to start would be with “what did you do?””

Derek growled a little.

“Hey. Don’t take that tone of voice with me. I can’t figure out how to reverse the curse unless I know what type of curse it is. So. What did you do? Threaten her—insult her—attack her—destroy something of hers?”

Derek wasn’t latching on to any of those. 

Stiles thought for a moment, considering Derek from his computer chair. 

“She turned you into a wolf...into...“

 _The beast you are_.

”Got it!” Stiles swiveled and grabbed a book from his desk. He turned through the pages quickly. 

“The Reflection Curse.” Stiles read from the tome. “A reflection curse is used to impose a lesson. The spell turns a person’s physical form to reflect what they are on the inside. In a sense it puts what’s inside a person on the outside. The curse is designed to transform one into the beast they are in hope that the person might overcome their beast. 

“Wow, you didn’t just piss her off. You made her want to  _teach you a lesson_. That’s pretty bad, Derek.” Stiles paused frowning. “That’s all it says. No reversal. Just the bit about “overcoming your beast.”“

Stiles frowned deeper. “You’re a werewolf. How...what? This isn’t making sense.”

Derek looked at Stiles crossly.

“Okay, okay. Not helping. But I don’t...let’s go talk to someone who actually knows what they’re doing with this stuff.”

~~~

A small laugh escaped Deaton when he spotted Derek.

“Which one of our fine friends is this?” he asked.

“It’s Derek.”

“Oh, no,” he said and a frown wrinkled his brow. “The alpha has been cursed. That’s not good.”

“Tell me about it,” Stiles said. “I figured out which curse it is though.”

“Oh, you did?” The gleam in Deaton’s eye made Stiles nervous.

“Yeah. A reflection curse.” 

“Aha.” 

“She turned him into “the beast within” which turns out to be a wolf. Which surprises no one...” 

Deaton nodded. 

“I don’t understand what she was trying to do with this. I mean “teach him a lesson,” but...he’s a werewolf. Shouldn’t he be like a wolf on the inside?”

Deaton looked thoughtful and then shrugged. “I don’t know either, Stiles. But, I can give you some more books. On shape-shifting curses and breaking them.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll figure it out. But, you’ll owe me for this, Derek.” 

Derek looked up at Stiles, unimpressed. 

“Yeah, yeah, the next time you save my ass, I know,” Stiles grumbled and followed Deaton to grab the books. 

~~~ 

Three hours and half a pizza later Stiles sighed.

He glanced at another previously scoured book comprising the arc around him on the floor, then to the one in his hands again. His fingers traced a line of text as his eyes skimmed yet another yellowing page.

“This is getting me nowhere fast,” he said, a heavy sigh escaping him. “There are so many different types of curses.”

Derek huffed. Another “duh.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m working on it. But, I don’t know, Derek. I think you’re kind of cuddly like this. Maybe I’ll just leave you like this...”

The growl that started up did not lack heat.

“Geez, I’m just kidding. Don’t get your wolf-panties in a wad.” Stiles said as he glanced at the book behind his left thigh.

Derek’s growl continued, low and threatening.

“Derek, what is wrong with you? Stop growling at me.”

“I don’t think it’s you he’s growling at, son.”

Stiles whipped around so fast, the hand propping him up slipped out from under him and his shoulder hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Dad!” he shouted, shooting back up. Stiles looked, wide-eyed and mouth agape, at his dad standing in the door frame arms crossed over his chest, gaze piercing.

Stiles glanced back at Derek then at his dad again. “Um...this is...there is...there isn’t...” Stiles got onto his knees and attempted to hide Derek behind his thin frame.

“Stiles. I can see the  _giant wolf_  behind you.”

Derek took a step forward and lowered his head in an overtly aggressive fashion.

Stiles looped an arm around Derek’s neck. “Ah-ah-ah. Derek,  _no_. Stop. Stop it. No growling at my dad. And no attacking him. And no threatening him in any way, shape, or form. At all. Ever.”

Derek rolled a look toward Stiles like he didn’t know why Stiles was bothering trying to tell him what to do. Despite this, the growling ceased and Derek straightened up. He did not, however, stop staring the Sheriff down.

The Sheriff stared back.

“Did you just call him  _Derek_?” John asked. Then, after a beat, “As in Derek  _Hale_?”

“Wh—what? No, I...that’s not...I didn’t...”

Stiles’s dad wasn’t buying it.

“All right,” Stiles conceded as he stood up completely, “yes, I called him Derek. I had to name him something, right?”

“And the fact that the wolf is listening to you...?”

“He’s a big, ole smart wolf.” Stiles grinned, cheesy.

“And, the fact that there are no wolves in California?”

Stiles's mouth made an interesting shape. “There are, too, wolves in California. Clearly. There’s one right here.”

“Why do I get the feeling that that’s not exactly the truth? And why do I get the feeling that there is so much more going on here than I can even begin to understand?” The Sheriff glanced at the arc of books surrounding his son.

Stiles’s smile froze on his face. Finally, he sighed.

“All right, all right. Here’s what’s going on for real. This wolf is Derek Hale. He—“

Suddenly, Stiles was on the ground, his knees having buckled when 180 pounds of wolf had slammed into them.

“Derek, what the h—“ Stiles curse cut off quickly as the terrifying  _ka-click_  of a gun cocking reached his ears.

He glanced at his dad and saw that the man had his Glock trained on the wolf; Derek for his part was snarling at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stiles shouted, throwing his hands up between the two men as he righted himself for the second time in four minutes. That’s got to be a record, even for him. “Everybody, just calm down! Nobody is shooting anyone and nobody is  _biting_  anyone! Calm down, everybody, just caaalm down.”

“Stiles, get away from that wolf,” John said.

“Dad—“

“Derek Hale or not, it just knocked you to the ground. Now, step. Away. From. The wolf.”

Derek snarled harder at the man and made to walk toward him.

Stiles quickly flipped around to face the werewolf and end his advances.

“Derek. Hale.” Stiles’s expression matched his deadly serious tone. Derek’s snarl dropped to a low growl. “What did I  _just_  say? Stop  _snarling_  at my dad. Besides, I can’t help you if my dad has you  _put to sleep_  after he’s  _emptied a few rounds_  into you. So, please. Stop.” Stiles dropped his voice, so only Derek could hear. “Please, Derek. It’s my dad. And we have to tell him something. I’m going to tell him part of the truth, but not anything about werewolves. So, stop freaking out.”

The growling stopped all together. Derek plopped down onto the floor. He laid his head on his paws and glared balefully up at Stiles.

“Thank you,” Stiles said.

Then, the teen turned to his father.

“Dad. I have this under control. Please, put your gun away.”

“Stiles—“

“Dad. Just put your gun away...and let me explain.”

John hesitated.

With a frustrated noise he returned his gun to its holster at his side.

“Explain.”

“Derek got turned into a wolf. By a witch.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. Stiles knew his dad’s mouth was only a second away from opening.

“Waitwaitwait...just listen. I’m being serious. This wolf is Derek Hale. That’s why he can understand me and that’s why he’s in my room. I’m trying to help him get turned back into a human. Hence. The books.” Stiles stared at his father for a moment and then in a high voice added, “Please, don’t freak out.”

“So, that  _is_  Derek Hale?”

“Yep.”

“And a  _witch_  did this to him?”

“Yep.”

“And  _you’re_  helping him undo this?”

“Yep.”

A pause.

“ _You can help him undo this?_ ” John looked at his son and Stiles could see the concern and slight betrayal in his eyes as he put two and two together. He wasn’t the Sheriff for nothing.

Stiles’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

Derek looked up at the boy curiously. He wanted to know how Stiles was going to answer this.

“...Yes...”

Well, that was a pretty simple answer.

The Sheriff asked in a voice that made it sound like he didn’t actually want to know, “Stiles, are you... are you a witch?”

“No,” Stiles said quickly.

His dad deflated with relief.

“But...”

John looked up at Stiles sharply.

“I may have the potential to be...?”

Derek noticed the muscle in the Sheriff’s jaw twitch as the man clenched his teeth. John breathed in through his nose and then out through his mouth, long and harsh. He nodded slightly.

“All right. All right,” he said and met his son’s eyes. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, the giant wolf in your bedroom is still my main concern.”

“Derek is perfectly harmless.”

“His teeth beg to differ.”

Derek made a disagreeable noise. The Sheriff eyed him for a moment before continuing.

“I don’t like a predator being in your bedroom, Stiles.”

Stiles barely, barely held back a laugh. If only he knew.

“I know, Dad, I know. But, Derek is still a human in there and he’s not going to attack me. I promise.”

“He knocked you to the ground.”

“That was...he was worried about you knowing about my, um...witchly...abilities...He was trying to keep me from having to tell you. But, I wanted to tell you, so...it’s okay now. Isn’t that right, Derek?”

Derek raised his head and looked at Stiles for a moment and then looked at the Sheriff. He snorted and jerked his head in what resembled a nod.

“Please, Dad, I’m the only one who can help him. If I don’t help him, Derek’s going to be stuck like this forever. No one else can help him.”

There was a pause as the Stilinskis held each other’s gazes.

“He won’t hurt me, Dad.  _I promise_.”

“Derek, do  _you_  promise?” John asked suddenly, directing his attention to the wolf. “Do you promise not to hurt my son?”

“Dad—“

“No. I want to hear it from him.”

Stiles inhaled deeply and held his breath. What Derek did next surprised him more than anything else the werewolf had done in the all the time Stiles had known him.

He paused, regarding the Sheriff carefully for a moment. Then, he got up and padded over to John and held up a paw.

It took the Sheriff a minute to figure out that Derek was trying to shake his hand.

John took the paw and shook it once firmly.

“Good. Good...” John said.

Derek went back over to Stiles and plopped down next to the boy again. Stiles stroked his head and Derek let him. After a beat Derek jerked his head toward Stiles and made a noise that sounded almost like a huff, then rested his muzzle on Stiles’s knee. 

Stiles looked up at his dad who was watching them with a softer expression on his face.

“I think that was him apologizing for all the snarling and whatnot,” Stiles said.

John nodded a little, Derek met his eyes briefly. 

“All right. Fine, then,” Sheriff Stilinski said. “I’m just going to ignore that this is happening until Derek is back to normal and then we are all going to have a nice, informative talk about this whole thing.” He gave his son a steady look. “You do what you need to do, son.” 

Stiles nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

“And Derek?”

Derek cocked an ear toward John.

“We shook on it. If you break that hand— _paw_  shake, then I’ll be obligated to put a bullet between your eyes, man or wolf.”

John Stilinski didn’t know the true weight of those words.

The Sheriff left and a silence that was surprisingly not uncomfortable settled over man and beast.

Stiles was still stroking Derek’s head.

“Guess, I better get back to figuring out what the hell kind of curse that witch put on you, huh?”

Derek snorted in agreement and lifted his head from Stiles’s knee. Stiles turned back to the slew of books that awaited his attention; he stared at the pages of one of them, not seeing the words.

“...I told my dad I’m a witch...” he said softly.

Derek looked at the boy’s profile; head hung low, mouth a wrinkled frown, eyes filled with too much emotion to sort through, hunched shoulders making him look smaller, dejected.

Stiles looked over at Derek, a wry smile coming to his face.

“Or I guess I sort of did, since I’m only sort of a witch. You know, that’s the most truthful lie I’ve told my dad since me and Scott ran into you in the woods that day.”

Derek was at a loss. Stiles was miserable and he couldn’t give him any words to reassure him, to comfort him, to  _anything_  him. But, then again, Derek thought, even if he wasn’t a wolf, he wouldn’t be able to say anything. He just wasn’t good with things like this. Normally, he wouldn’t even want to say anything; he wondered if it should bother him that he wanted to now.

Regardless of what was and wasn’t normal for him, Derek knew he was going to do something to help the boy in this moment. He felt compelled to; it was his fault he had had to tell his father after all. Since his wolf-bound lack of words left him with action as his only choice, Derek hardly thought about it when he gently head-butted Stiles's cheek.

Stiles’s eyebrows shot up, his depressed expression breaking under the weight of his surprise.

Derek nudged him again and rubbed against Stiles’s jawline slightly, then pulled back to stare at the boy.

Stiles stared back at him, unsure of what that just was. But, he smiled nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

Derek nosed the side of Stiles’s head with an irritated huff.

“Yeah, yeah. Never speak of it...ya big softie...”

Derek made a low rumbling noise in warning—talk like that would not be tolerated—as he laid down next to Stiles, again.

Stiles didn’t say anything when Derek rested his head on Stiles’s knee for the second time.

~~~

Three more hours later Stiles sighed heavily; he sounded drained.

“I don’t know.”

Derek cocked his head at Stiles.

“There’s a way to break the curse, but whatever it is, it’s organic and there’s no spell I can use to reverse it. It’s just going to have to happen on its own. So, you need to hurry up and learn your lesson, I guess.”

Derek’s glare indicated his displeasure with that conclusion.

“I know, it sucks. But, really. I’ve looked. There’s nothing I can do. I’ll still help you though. We can try to figure it out together.

There’s a particular reason she turned you into a wolf. And I intend to find out what that reason is. I’ll start researching everything I can about wolves. Tomorrow. Right now I’m so tired, I can hardly see straight.”

Stiles stood and stumbled slightly.

Derek stood and readied himself to catch the boy if need be. Fortunately, for the currently quadruped Alpha Stiles managed to get over to his bed without mishap. The boy shucked off his jeans without thought of his company (years in the locker room with the lacrosse team did away with body shyness, Derek imagined). He flicked the light and crawled into his bed in his boxers and t-shirt, not bothering with further hygiene.

Derek stared at the lump in the covers breathing softly.

A beat, then, Stiles seemed to remember himself and he flipped over and looked at Derek wide-eyed.

“Um...” Stiles glanced around his room briefly. “Do you wanna sleep...on the floor? Or...?”

Derek rolled his eyes. Tossing his head, he went and curled up in the corner of the room.

“Do you...want a pillow...?” Stiles asked uncertainly.

The light coming in from the window reflected off of Derek’s eyes when he gave Stiles a glare.

“All right,” Stiles said, hands raised in surrender, “I’ll stop trying to be nice. ‘Night, Derek.”

Derek whuffed his good-night and they both let sleep take hold.

~~~

Derek couldn’t have been asleep long when his enhanced senses woke him, alerting him that something was amiss. A feeling of wrongness settled on the back of his shoulders, digging its claws into his shoulder blades and wiggling against his spine. The wolf perked his ears up, listening closely. But, much to his confusion, he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

Actually, he didn’t hear anything at all. There was no sound in the bedroom aside from his own breathing.

_Stiles wasn’t breathing._

Derek leapt.

Stiles awoke with a strangled, half-startled gasp that was quickly followed by hyperventilating. When he gained his bearings and had satisfied his body’s need for missed air, he stared at Derek’s face inches from his own.

“Oh...” Stiles said, a lot less alarmed than he should be. “I wasn’t breathing again, huh?”

Derek immediately rumbled his disapproval at the statement.  _Again?_  the growl demanded.

“Yeah, I do that sometimes, some sleep apnea thing caused by stress or something, no big.”

The werewolf seemed to disagree if his bared teeth were any indication.

“It’s fine, Derek. I’m fine. Don’t be such a worry-wolf.”

Derek stared him down, but Stiles wouldn’t look at him. Fine, his ass.

The beast flopped down pointedly on top of the teen. Furry head on his chest, he continued to stare Stiles down.

Stiles, for his part, floundered. “Wh-what, you’re just gonna watch me while I sleep now? That’s not completely creepy or anything. Do you really need to be racking up more creeper points, Derek?”

Derek gave an exasperated snort and then turned his head so that one fuzzy ear was pressed closely against Stiles’ chest.

It took approximately two seconds for Stiles to connect the dots.

“You’re going to listen to my breathing...” The boy was quiet for a long moment. Then, he sighed, a sliver of his true, overworked and bone-weary state of being slipping out. “Derek. You don’t have to do that. I’m fine. You can go back and—“

A growl less than playful interrupted the teen.

“Fine. Fine! But, if you’re going to stay up here and “monitor” me, then I get to pet you. No growling! I might as well enjoy having a wolf around, right?”

Stiles's hand landed on Derek’s shoulder and he ran it down Derek’s side.

Derek huffed, really more for show than anything else. Not that he would ever admit this to anyone,  _ever_ , but he enjoyed being petted, wolf or not. There was nothing like having a hand ran through his hair in a show of affection.

And like Stiles said, why not enjoy having a wolf around? Even if the wolf was him. He could take advantage of the situation, too. After all, it made a fine excuse for letting the boy touch him in such an intimate way, when he couldn’t as a person. When he was a person, he risked repeating past mistakes, mistakes he couldn’t afford to make again. Not that  _Stiles_  was in anyway like  _her_ , but Derek feared that maybe Kate’s role would fall to him this time, and somehow he would wind up destroying Stiles, just like everything else he touched. And he couldn’t do that to Stiles. Then of course there was the issue of his self-control. Namely the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure he  _could_  control himself if Stiles were to constantly hang off of him.

Stiles’s hand stilled a little while later and shortly after the boy slumbered.

Derek lay awake listening to the steady, even breaths filling and expanding the boy’s chest cavity, only to escape quietly a moment later. Derek’s breaths came to match Stiles’, keeping time, keeping calm. Even after he too slipped into sleep again, his breathing matched Stiles’s. Neither of their breaths faltered the rest of the night.

~~~

Stiles let out a frustrated sigh.

Stooped over his computer screen the boy hadn’t moved save to click his mouse for the past four and a half hours.

Derek’s ears swiveled toward him.

“Wolves. Wolves are,” Stiles began, “pack animals; hunters; social; expressive for an animal; ancestors of dogs; exceptional at hearing and seeing, but not so much at smelling—that must be more of a werewolf thing; good runners; not nearly as big as you are right now normally; and blah, blah, blah, a bunch of other stuff we already knew. I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know why she turned you into a wolf. And I am soooo tired of looking. My eyes hurt.”

Stiles screwed his eyes shut to relieve the burn induced by staring closely at a computer screen for hours on end.

“Derek. Derek, I can’t go on,” the teen said dramatically, arm flung over his eyes. “Derek, I...I’m going down. I can’t. Can’t...”

Stiles slid out of the computer chair and landed on the floor. He reached out a hand and lightly gripped Derek’s fur. Derek regarded the hand, unimpressed by the theatrics.

“Dereeeeek,” Stiles groaned. “I’m dying.”

If Derek could talk he would have told him, “you’re not dying.” But, seeing as he couldn’t speak, he settled for gently nipping at Stiles's hand.

Stiles, being Stiles, understood completely. “No, really. I’m dying. I can feel it in the back of my eyes.” He let out a long, melodramatic groan to emphasize this point.

Stiles pulled himself up and flopped down over Derek, upper body covering the wolf’s shoulders. Derek rolled his eyes. He laid his head on his paws and did his absolute best to ignore the Thespian teen on his back.

Stiles groaned again only to cut off abruptly to say, “Man, you’re soft. Are real wolves this soft or is that a you-thing?”

A hand started stroking the fur beneath it. The werewolf chose not to respond.

Contentment settled over the teen and for once in his life, he couldn’t find anything to talk about.

Derek begrudgingly found himself completely content to have the boy hugging him, not finding a single reason to shake him off. If he were a cat, he might be inclined to purr.

Not that he would  _purr_.

“Maybe...”Stiles said after a while, “it’s about being a better leader...? Does that make sense? Learning to lead a “pack” by being a wolf?”

Derek jerked his head in a mimic of disagreement.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so either, really. I mean, you may all be werewolves, but you’re not  _complete_  animals. You still have higher reasoning skills.”

Derek gave Stiles a look.

Stiles bared his teeth in a sorry excuse for a smile. “Joking. Mostly. Hey, maybe it’s about your  _social_  skills.”

Derek grumble-growled.

“I don’t know, Der. That  _is_  one of your weakest points.”

Derek’s eyes snapped open. Did Stiles just call him “ _Der_?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! I quit! For now.” Stiles pulled himself up and away from Derek. “I’m going out for a while. Clear my head and all that. You want me to take you to the edge of the woods so you can run for a while? I’m sure you don’t like being cooped up in my room.”

Derek stood with him, obviously a yes.

~~~

Stiles parked at the edge of the woods and got out, opening the door for Derek to hop out.

He gestured lazily. “I’m going to wander aimlessly for a while or something. You, go have your wolfy fun. And if you kill something, I don’t want to know about it.”

Derek took off.

It felt good to run. He liked running in both his usual forms, but as a genuine wolf he felt the desire even more. The wind rushing past his face, the earth cool beneath his paws, the air of the forest filling his lungs. It felt  _good_.

Stiles let out a breath he had been holding. Derek hadn’t picked up on his lie. Maybe it was because wolves weren’t as inclined to pay attention to human emotions or maybe it was because Derek was too distracted to notice the skipping of his heart. Or, maybe Stiles had just gotten good at lying.

It was the “or something” that had made his sentence technically not a lie. Stiles glanced around before heading off toward his “or something.”

Time to find a witch.

~~~

He found the witch.

Well.  _She_  found  _him_.

When the question was posed to him, Stiles almost fell flat on his face, tripping on a felled branch in his haste to turn around.

“What brings you to me, child?”

Stiles gaped at the form of the witch. She was older, not withering yet, but her skin reflected years and years of experience, not age. Her eyes were wild, but her hair was wilder still, curling out from her head in all directions. Her smile, though, is what caught Stiles's attention the most; crooked, and barely showing any teeth, almost inviting, but at the last moment you realize that was exactly what it was  _supposed_  to look like. 

“Cat got your tongue?” she crooned. “Though I suppose it’s not  _cats_  you have a problem with, now is it? You’re the boy who runs with the wolves of this town.”

Stiles finally seemed to find his voice. “Yeah, that’s right. Not sure how  _you_  know that, though.”

And he thought the smile couldn’t get any creepier.

“What brings you here, witchilng?”

Stiles's face scrunched up. “Witchling? What the hell is that?”

“That is you. Now, don’t make me ask you a third time.”

Stiles swallowed thickly. She had “threat” coming out the ying-yang. Yet, he couldn’t turn off his sharp tongue. “Don’t you know already?”

She smiled, satisfied with Stiles's retort apparently.

“You are more valuable than he knows.”

Stiles perked up at that. “Than who knows? Derek?”

“Your Alpha is blind to those around him.”

“Is that why you cursed him? To make him...see us... better? Man, that’s sounding an awful lot like a certain fairytale I feel is awfully clichéd considering my life.”

“It’s not about seeing, little one.”

“Then, what is it about?”

The smile died in her eyes. “That is not for you to determine.”

Stiles frowned.

“Well, whoop-dee-doo. Look, Derek and I may not exactly be friends, but considering we have an unspoken pact to save each other’s lives every other week, his well-being is in fact my concern.”

“Does he know that?”

Stiles grew confused, an inkling of realization creeping up on him. He didn’t have time to let it bloom though, as a black blur leapt in front of him with a roar.

Snapping and snarling, Derek flashed fangs at the woman, his eyes bled red. Apparently, his Alpha power hadn’t been taken away in the shift.

“Derek!”

Derek whirled on Stiles, giving him a disapproving bark, eyes immediately switching back to the witch. Then, he began backing Stiles up, smacking into his knees and bodily bullying the boy into doing what he wanted. He moved them away from the witch, eyes never leaving her.

The witch looked terribly, horribly pleased for a moment.

She cackled and was gone.

Stiles hit the ground with an oof when Derek slammed into him. The wolf began nipping at Stiles, at his hands and his arms and his fingertips.

“Ah, ah! Geez! Ah! Okay, okay! I get it! Bad Stiles! Got it!”

Derek stopped biting at him and gave him a full throttle glare, teeth bared and growl low in his chest.

Stiles deflated.

“Sorry. I was just trying to figure out why she cursed you.”

Derek snarled.

“I know it was stupid to approach her. I know. Let me up. Let’s go home.”

Derek gave one last growl and removed his paws from Stiles’s chest.

Derek fumed the entire way back to the car and Stiles sulked the entire drive home.

It wasn’t until he pulled the keys from the ignition that he realized the witch had called Derek his Alpha.

~~~

When Scott appeared at Stiles's door, a confused frown was already planted firmly on his face.

“What did you mean by “you can come to grandma’s house if you don’t mind the big, bad wolf being in your bed?”” he asked when Stiles opened the door. His confusion grew as he stepped in. “Why does it smell like Derek?”

Speak of the devil, Derek appeared at the top of the stairs, glaring down at Scott for all he was worth (which was quite a lot when measured in Derek Hale glares).

Panic seizing him Scott grabbed Stiles and flung the teen behind him.

“Stiles, there’s a wolf in your house! Stay back!”

Scott’s eyes lit up gold as he stared Derek down, ready to fight, to defend.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Uh, Scott,” Stiles patted his friend on the back, “not that it’s not sweet that you jumped to defend me and all, but—that’s Derek. And if he hasn’t killed me by now, he’s not going to.”

Derek huffed in agreement.

“Wait, what?” Scott’s confusion was back in full force.

After explanations were given and an hour and a half of video games were played, Scott said around a mouthful of Cheetos, “Maybe it’s about feelings.”

Stiles stared. Derek stared.

Stiles burst out laughing. “I cannot even begin to explain to you why that is so funny. C’mon man, it’s Derek. Derek doesn’t do feelings.”

“But, maybe that’s just it,” Scott countered. “Maybe she changed him into a wolf, so he could like, get in touch with his feelings or something.”

“That is ridiculous,” Stiles said.

Derek’s expression would indicate he agreed.

“No, really! Animals are more sensitive to emotions than people. I see it all the time at the clinic. Maybe it’s so Derek can...experience the same things he always does, but with a different set of senses, so he’ll, you know, notice the things he normally doesn’t. ”

Stiles surveyed Derek for a moment, while the wolf calmly stared back at him.

“Feelings...maybe.”

~~~

Stiles opened the door and blinked when it was Isaac standing there. 

“Uh. ‘Sup, Isaac? Can I help you with something…?”

“Hey, Stiles, um…” Isaac fidgeted, looked at his shuffling feet. “I was just wondering if you maybe had seen Derek recently. He’s, uh, I haven’t seen him in over a day and he’s not answering his phone, usually he lets me know if he’s going to disappear for a while and—“

The werewolf’s head snapped up and his eyes went bright gold as he scented the air.

“Is Derek  _here_?” he asked suddenly, and it looked like he was trying his hardest to keep it together.

“Ye—“

Isaac rushed past Stiles into the front living room.

“—aaaah, he’s here, just come on in without an invitation, that’s fine.” Stiles shut the door mechanically and followed Isaac to the living room, prepping to explain.

As expected Isaac had frozen in the doorway, eyes wide and confused, fixed on Derek. Derek for his part looked unimpressed by this reaction.

“D…Derek…?” Isaac squeaked.

Stiles clapped the teen on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, your nose is not deceiving you. That is Derek. He is cursed. He cannot change back. We’re working on it. Want anything to drink?”

Isaac’s head slowly turned to look at Stiles, his expression only more confused now.

“What?” the blonde asked, almost a choke.

“I know you heard me. I was right next to your ear, Isaac,” Stiles mocked. Then, patting the beta’s shoulder again, summarized, “Derek’s a wolf right now, that’s all you really need to know.” 

Stiles's mouth quickly dropped into a thoughtful frown, when Isaac visibly relaxed, reverting back into his natural “bright-eyed puppy” state.

Isaac strode over to Derek and knelt. Derek whuffed in his hair and then laid his head back down, as Isaac took a place next to him on the floor. Stiles plopped down on the couch and grabbed the bag of chips.

When he offered some to Isaac, the boy took a handful gladly and asked what they were watching.

~~~

“You should have gone to see Isaac.”

Derek lifted his head to look at Stiles, following the teen’s movement as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and grabbed another one to sleep in.

“I thought you had. When you went out to run today or before you came to me or  _sometime_ …but I guess you didn’t if how  _scared_  he was when he came over was any indication. How could you do that to him, Derek?” Stiles scolded. “Not let him know you were okay.”

Stiles saw confusion in Derek’s eyes. He sighed.

“Really, Derek? You don’t get it?” Stiles was growing angry now. “Isaac was probably going out of his mind not knowing where you were, not knowing if you were even  _okay_ , much less  _alive_. Everyone he’s ever loved is gone, Derek. His mom, his brother, his dad, I guess, and Erica and Boyd, all gone. That poor kid was probably scared you were, too. Open your eyes, Derek. You’re all he has right now, and you just vanished without a word for over forty-eight hours. Don’t you think  _you_  of all people would understand what that feels like better than anyone?”

Derek could only stare; Stiles was right. He was  _terribly, painfully_  right.

“You’ve got to start thinking about your pack, Derek,” Stiles said, pointing a finger accusingly. “I know that’s really only Isaac and your psychopath of an uncle and kind of sometimes Scott right now, but you have to  _pay attention_  to them and the things that are probably secretly  _killing_  them. Like what you did to Isaac today. Take responsibility for your pack.”

Where Derek the Human would have stood his ground stubbornly, chin held defiantly high, Derek the Wolf lowered his head, and Stiles recognized it for shame more easily on the wolf form than he ever would on the human. 

Stiles said as he flung the covers on his bed back, angrily hitting the light before climbing in, “I know apologizing isn’t really your style, Derek, but I don’t have to be a werewolf to pick up on how you made Isaac feel by disappearing without so much as a word—you should apologize to him when you’re human again.”

Stiles settled in the bed and a few beats later Derek hopped up onto the mattress. The wolf snuggled up close to the boy and tucked his head against Stile’s chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat. Stiles tried to push it back, tried not to think about it, to hold onto his anger instead, but he couldn’t help it; he recognized the gesture for what it was.

He sighed.

“Apology accepted.”

~~~

The next afternoon when the Sheriff walked into his home, he paused on the way to his bedroom to take in the sight in the living room.

Stiles was sprawled across the length of the couch, one arm hanging lazily in the air while manipulating the controls of the remote. The other arm was wrapped around the wolf nestled against his stomach and chest. Both parties were relaxed and comfortable.

Derek in fact couldn’t deny that he was always comfortable laying with Stiles, on the couch or curled up on his bed together. He was becoming accustomed to the feeling and he liked it, liked the way Stiles made him feel, a warm, solid presence, always there, always dependable, always _Stiles_. It was intoxicating, that feeling. Derek thought he was slowly becoming an addict. In his current state he couldn’t say he cared.

 He also couldn’t say he was surprised. That Stiles for all his chatter and hyperactivity and clumsiness had managed to make Derek feel something like  _whole_  again. Derek didn’t want to think about what that would mean once the curse was broken.

Two sets of eyes turned to him when John spoke.

“No luck with the “curse-breaking” today, boys?”

“I gave up,” Stiles said, hands flinging up into the air dramatically. “Can’t figure it out. I tried. And tried and tried. I got nothin’.”

“Uh-huh...” the Sheriff said to his son, but his attention was on Derek.

Derek’s attention was likewise on the Sheriff, eyes gazing up from his position on Stiles’s chest. He looked almost guilty. Like a child whose hand was in the cookie jar, while a parent at the stove had their back to them a few feet away—he knew he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be, he was just hoping no one would notice.

It did not go unnoticed by Sheriff Stilinski.

“Derek doesn’t seem all that disappointed about it...” John commented.

“I think he gave up, too. Witch’s curses are hard,” Stiles whined.

“I see. Well, don’t give up completely. I’m sure there’s a way...assuming there’s a will...”

Stiles glanced up at his dad, looking at him strangely for that last comment.

John was quick to distract. “What have you gathered so far?”

“It’s not about “seeing” and as far I can see it’s not about actually being a wolf, so...I dunno. Scott said maybe it’s about feelings, and honestly that’s probably the best idea we have so far, which is kind of sad, considering Derek doesn’t  _do_  feelings, you know.”

The Sheriff looked at his son briefly, disbelief coloring his features. “Cuddling on the couch doesn’t count as feelings?”

Stiles froze like a deer in the headlights. Scratch that. Like a human in a werewolf’s path on a full moon. He looked down at Derek as if noticing him being glued to his side for the first time. Clearly, it hadn’t even occurred to the boy what they looked like on the couch together. Derek was completely unhelpful, choosing to stare at the TV rather than make eye contact with either human.

“Um. We just...” Stiles began. “This is just comfortable. I mean, look how cuddly he is.”

John didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “And you? Are you cuddly, Stiles? Because you look pretty bony to me.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, offended. “Don’t make fun of my physique.  _I_  am a  _fine_  specimen of manliness.”

Derek snorted.

“ _You_  are  _not_  helping, Derek,” Stiles accused as he poked Derek in the forehead.

An alarming thought occurred to the Sheriff. “Wait, do you and Derek  _cuddle on the couch_  often? When he is a  _man_?” His teeth were gritted and he had to bite the words out.

Stiles jerked his head up. “ _What?_  No! This is the first time anything like this has ever happened.” If you don’t count sleeping in the same bed the last few nights, but that was a on a need to know basis—and nobody needed to know.

Stiles’s dad stared him down.

“Really, Dad. Like I said, Human-Derek doesn’t  _do_  feelings. Especially with someone he borderline hates. I mean, Derek doesn’t even like me.”

“He doesn’t even like you and you’re helping him break a huge curse?” the Sheriff asked, eyebrows raised.

“Um.”

Derek rumbled. Both humans looked at him.

“What?” Stiles asked. “What was that for?”

Derek wouldn’t look at the teen, but he rumbled again.

Stiles’s reviewed the conversation.

“You do like me,” Stiles concluded.

Derek whuffed.

“Huh. Would you look at that...”

John frowned deeply.

“What exactly is your relationship with Derek Hale, son? When he’s not a wolf.”

Derek aimed a baleful look at the Sheriff.

Stiles shrugged. “We help each other out occasionally.”

“Help each other with  _what_  exactly?”

Stiles bit his lip.

Derek stood then, hopping off the couch and placing himself directly in front of the Sheriff, blocking Stiles from him. He sat. John surveyed the wolf for a moment and then nodded slowly, seemingly understanding the wolf’s actions.

“It’s awfully noble of you to not leave my son to answer what appears to be a very difficult question all by himself. We’re still having that talk when you can talk again. All of us.” The Sheriff shot his son a look and then made his way up the stairs, but not before throwing over his shoulder. “The fact that Derek is willing to cuddle as a wolf, but not as a human might have something to do with the curse. You might think about that.”

Stiles watched his dad go and then looked back at Derek.

He asked, “Why  _are_  you so willing to...to let me touch you like this? Because I recall a few times you were none too happy with me touching you. So, why now? Is it because you’re a wolf? An animal?”

Stiles could see Derek thinking over the answer to that question himself. Then, he nodded once.

“Maybe Scott’s on to something.”

Derek tucked his head back into the crook of Stiles’s arm, and considered the half-truth he had just told Stiles. It was true enough. Being a wolf was, after all, why Derek was letting Stiles curl up with him. He wouldn’t admit that it was also because of his desire to be curled up close to Stiles like this when he was a  _man_ , as the Sheriff had put it. Stiles didn’t need to know how Derek felt about him; being allies suited both of them just fine.

~~~

Stiles’s scream was muffled behind a hand as soon as he stepped into his room.

“Ah, ah, ah. Wouldn’t want to alarm your father, now would we, Stiles?”

Stiles gave a frustrated sigh that became garbled behind the hand that he viciously yanked away.

“Peter! What the hell? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Stiles hissed as he let Derek walk past him before closing the door to the room. He whipped around to face Peter. “What are you doing here? Get out of my house!” he said back to full volume.

Peter smiled in a less than comforting way.

Derek stepped in front of Stiles and growled at his uncle, letting his displeasure at Peter’s presence in Stiles’s room be known.

“Oh, Derek. Don’t be like that. I was worried about you, nephew. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“Derek, this is what I was talking about with the letting people know you’re alive thing,” Stiles grumbled.

“It’s good to know you’ve been in good hands,” Peter commented, glancing at Stiles’s bed. Of course, Peter would be able to tell Derek had been sleeping there, just like he had been able to track Derek to Stiles’s house.

“Yes, yes, Derek is fine. You can go now,” Stiles said, making shooing motions with his hands.

Peter looked at Stiles like he was a cute bunny trying to outrun a predator that was too fast for it.

“So, a curse?” Peter said as he took a seat in Stiles’s computer chair.

Stiles groaned. “Yes. Curse. Witch in the woods. Teaching Derek a lesson. Go now, please.”

“She’s teaching you a lesson? Oh my, Derek. That is delightful.”

Derek growled. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Peter, since they entered the room. He had also stayed firmly planted between his uncle and the teen.

“We’re both glad you’re amused.” Stiles fell onto his bed and put his face in his hands. “You’re planning on staying here for a while, aren’t you?”

Peter fiddled with a pencil from Stiles’s desk. He gave Stiles a faux pitiful look. “I’m lonely, Stiles... Won’t you keep me company?” Peter leered.

Stiles didn’t know how to react to that. Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Derek jumped up and snapped and snarled and growled at Peter forcing him out of the chair lest he be bitten. Peter’s head snapped toward Stiles’s door and in a flash he vanished out the window, the only sign he had been there at all, the pencil dropped on the floor.

Stiles’s dad burst through the door a second later, gun at the ready.

“Stiles!”

“Dad!” Stiles hopped up from his position on the edge of his bed, quick to put himself in between his father and Derek. “Nothing’s wrong! Nothing’s wrong!”

The Sheriff looked to Derek who was standing in front of the window, alert, but silent.

“What happened?”

“Derek just, um, started growling at the window. Maybe there was something there.”

 Derek turned to face them, apparently satisfied that Peter had actually fled.

“Was there something there, Derek?” Stiles asked meaningfully. 

Derek gave a short nod.

“And is it gone now?”

Another nod.

“Good boy.”

Derek gave Stiles a look.

“I mean...thanks.”

Satisfied, the Sheriff lowered his gun and nodded once.

“Fine. Okay, then. Good job, Derek.”

“Good night, Dad.” Stiles smiled.

“Good night, son,” John replied and left, but not without a backward glance at Derek.

Stiles chuckled a little. Derek cocked his head at him curiously.

“Sorry, just...thanks. For getting rid of Peter, I mean. He looked pretty scared, it was kind of funny.”

If Derek were a human, he would be smirking.

Stiles stared at Derek for a moment. He had seemed pretty upset about Peter laying a line on Stiles like that.

“Were you...worried...about me?” Stiles asked finally, ignoring the soaring feeling in his chest.

Derek observed Stiles coolly. Stiles knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.

He was just about to give up, when Derek stepped forward and much to Stiles’s surprise, licked his hand.

Stiles gaped for a moment, but Derek was looking at him in what Stiles could only interpret as sincerely.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, time for bed.”

If Stiles held onto Derek a little bit tighter that night, well, it’s not like Derek was going to say anything.

~~~

When Stiles was reclined on the couch with Derek heavy over him again the following afternoon, the boy seemed strangely subdued. They were watching TV, but Stiles seemed listless, flipping through the channels never really settling on anything, twitching and shifting his body minutely every so many minutes, letting out little, short, abortive sighs through his nose that came off as more of a heavy exhale each time.

Derek was beginning to wonder if he was this way, because they still hadn’t made any progress on his curse in spite of that morning’s efforts. Until Stiles’s dad came home, that is.

Sheriff Stilinski spared Derek a glance, withholding comment this time, before addressing his son.

“Stiles...”

Stiles glanced up at his dad, less eager than he usually was when he spoke with his father.

“...Tomorrow...” the Sheriff said and the word looked painful as it left his lips.

“Same as usual, Dad,” Stiles replied.

Derek’s senses roiled with the change in the teen. His restlessness quickly took a nosedive into despair and Derek’s ears flattened on his head as if he were instinctively trying to duck away from the misery.

John nodded and took a heaving breath clearly pushing something back before he spoke again.

“And Derek? Are you going to leave him alone in the house all day?”

“No, I...I was...gonna maybe take him with me...”

Derek glanced between father and son, trying to read their facial expressions; Stiles was staring blankly at the TV, determinedly flipping through channels without focusing on a single image that went by; the Sheriff looked worried.

Looking to Derek, he said, “If that’s what you want to do, son,” and disappeared into the house without further exchange.

Derek turned a questioning eye on Stiles.

Stiles ignored it and started rambling about what he was going to make for dinner. He didn’t stop flipping through the channels until his ramble rolled to a stop and he retreated to the kitchen to whip up some pasta.

~~~

The next day Stiles woke smelling of sadness. It hung in the air, sickly and suffocating.

Derek was terribly confused. First, the strangeness with his father yesterday, and now this depression, worse by tenfold at least. He nudged the teen concernedly before either one of them had even made a move toward getting out of bed.

Stiles cast a gaze on the wolf that spoke of loss.

“Hey, sorry...guess you’re picking up on that, huh?” Stiles ran a hand over Derek’s fur. “I, uh...I have to go do something today...something really important, um. You don’t have to come, I mean, you can chill here. It’s not...it’s not really something that’s fun, so if you want to stay here, I understand, but if you’d like to come, I would...I wouldn’t mind.”

Derek cocked his head in question. He had no idea what the boy was talking about.

Stiles gave him a broken smile and asked, trying to force his voice to be light, “What do you say, Der? Want to meet my mom?”

A crushing sorrow flooded out of the boy and engulfed Derek.

The whimper that escaped the wolf was beyond his control.  He leapt out of the bed and stood in front of the door at the ready.

Stiles huffed through his nose, the closest he could get to a laugh on the anniversary of his mother’s death Derek imagined, then mumbled, “Okay.”

~~~

The sun was beating down on the earth of the cemetery, but Stiles’s mother’s grave was under the shade of a tall oak tree.

He placed the bouquet of bright, yellow daisies, her favorite, in front of the marker and sat down, not minding the dirt and grass under his palms.

“Hey, Mom.”

Derek sat next to him, subdued. He dipped his head in a respectful greeting.

“This is Derek,” Stiles said to the stone. “Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf. Born that way. He’s the Alpha here in Beacon Hills. He’s currently cursed, that’s why he’s a wolf. Werewolves don’t actually look like regular wolves, they’re a lot scarier than that, right, Der?”

Derek snorted and nodded.

“I’m helping him break the curse. I know, that’s awfully nice of me. In all fairness Derek does a pretty outstanding job of keeping my ass alive, so it’s the least I can do. Although, admittedly, Derek is the reason I’m in a lot of those life-threatening situations.” Stiles side-eyed the wolf.

Derek gave him a minor glare, protesting the accusation.  _It’s not my fault everyone’s trying to kill me and everyone around me._

Stiles seemed to understand.

“All right, we do deal with a fair amount of psychos, who would be crazy killers regardless of who they were targeting. And it’s not really your fault you happen to get targeted by said crazy killers. Let me tell you, Mom, when I say crazy, I mean straight jacket and padded, white room _crazy_.”

Stiles went into a diatribe about their past trials, even throwing in that Derek being turned into a wolf by a witch was one of the least troublesome things to happen thus far. Derek disagreed.

Stiles pulled out their lunch around one o’clock. He didn’t stop talking to his mother the entire time, they were eating. He talked about Scott and him making first line and dating Allison, on again-off again. He talked about Ms. McCall and how she’d remodeled the kitchen late last summer. He talked about Lydia and how his crush for her had dissipated after all this time due to the events of the past year. He talked about his father.

Then, he talked about how he hated lying to his father, how guilty he felt, how it was killing him to see that look on his father’s face every time the man knew the words coming out of his son’s mouth weren’t true.

And then he cried as he told her he missed her.

Derek wrapped himself around the back of the sobbing boy, pressing close and tucking his muzzle against the boy’s side, well acquainted with this particular type of pain. Stiles didn’t say anything else until well after his tears had dried up.

His hand was stroking Derek’s head, when he let out a shuddery breath and said, “Guess that’s all this time. Let’s go home, Der.” 

Scott came over later and didn’t mention what day it was; he did an outstanding job of distracting Stiles and making him laugh instead. Derek didn’t see the Sheriff all day or night; he assumed John Stilinski preferred to spend the day burying himself in his work.

Stiles clung to him that night in bed and Derek saw no reason to push him off.

Derek brooded over all that Stiles had shared with his mom and by the simple fact that he had been present, with Derek. Stiles seemed to trust Derek with all of that information, with the delicacy of such an emotional moment. Could Derek say that much? Would he trust Stiles with the same? Derek considered this and decided he would. After all, Stiles was the first person Derek had thought of when he had received the curse. If he were being honest, Stiles was always the first person Derek thought of whenever trouble reared its ugly head. He depended on Stiles and he had come to feel comfortable around him, content even, to be in his presence.

And what did he do for the teen? Just caused him more trouble, that’s what. If today was any indication Stiles was clearly carrying a lot on his shoulders, a lot that he wished he could share with someone, could get off his chest. Derek would try to alleviate some of that, when he was human again. It was the least he could do for the brilliant, suffering boy who was always there when he needed him. And, god, did he need him. Like birds needed the sky.

Derek couldn’t imagine how empty his life would be without Stiles in it, to fill the deafening silence, to fill the aching hole in his heart, to cover the ashes in laughter and life and love.

He knew how important Stiles was to him now.

The teen snuffled in his sleep, hand curling into Derek’s fur a little tighter.

Derek fell asleep thinking about all the things he wanted to say to Stiles.

~~~

Stiles knew he had been wrapped around Derek when he fell asleep. However, he was confused when he woke up and it was Derek that was wrapped around him. In his half-awake state he couldn’t quite figure it out.

The man’s breath was hot on his neck, his body a veritable furnace pressed along his side, sprawled across his chest, an arm flung up by his head— 

An arm?!

Stiles jerked awake, almost hyperventilating at the sight of all six-foot-sexy of Derek Hale tangled up in his sheets and curled around him. His body was sleep-heavy and pliant, Stiles had never seen him so relaxed. And he was very, very naked.

Derek grumbled and squeezed Stiles’s middle harder when the teen tried to sit up.

“Derek,” Stiles said, urgency clear in his voice. “Derek, wake up.”

Stiles knew the instant Derek woke up. The usual tension he carried returned to his body with the force of a tidal wave. His arms went stiff. His body turned into a board. His legs flexed and stayed that way.

He shot up leaning on an elbow and hovering over Stiles. Slowly, he looked up at Stiles’s face. They stared at each other for a moment, neither sure which one of them was more mortified with the situation.

Then, Stiles broke into a wavering grin and said, “We broke the curse! Yay. Um. How?”

Derek looked like he was about to jump out of the bed and fly out of the window, nudity be damned. But, he surprised Stiles by opening his mouth. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Did we even ever figure out what the lesson was?” Stiles asked, confused.

Derek actually answered him again. “No. We didn’t.”

“So...again...how?”

Derek looked thoughtful for a moment. “It must have been something that happened yesterday, or more likely last night. Since I didn’t change in the middle of the day.”

Oh my god, another whole sentence. And a half. Maybe Derek really had learned whatever lesson the witch had been aiming for. If that’s the case, then...

“What were you thinking right before you fell asleep?” Stiles asked, suspiciously.

Derek stared down at him. He inhaled deeply. This was it. This was where he was going to be typical Derek and bolt.

“All the things I wanted to say to you.”

Stiles's eyebrows shot up. An answer. And a curious one at that.

“And...those were...?”

Derek hesitated. But, he came through again. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. For you having to deal with me being a wolf for a week. For putting you in danger all the time, because even if it’s not my fault that people keep coming after my pack, I should do a better job of keeping you safe. I’m sorry you lost your mom. I’m sorry you’ve been having to lie to your father for so long. I want you to tell him. Everything. I don’t care anymore. He’s your father and he has a right to know what his son is doing. I’m sorry for never talking to you when I should have, when I needed to. When  _you_  needed me to. I’m sorry for never being there when you needed me. When you’re always there for me. You’re  _always_  there for me, Stiles, you’re practically the only person I can consistently depend on out of the few people I still have left in my life—“

Stiles's eyes brightened in revelation. “That’s it. That’s the lesson.”

Derek’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Not taking your...the people around you for granted. Or something. You know, appreciating what you have even when you’ve...lost so much.” The words weighed heavily on Stiles’s tongue, but he let them slip out into the air anyway. Then, with conviction he concluded, “I think she turned you into a wolf to remind you that you’re human.”

“I’m  _not_  human,” Derek countered.

“I know, but...the whole basis of werewolf lore is that you’re a “wolf-man” implying that you are both wolf...and man. You may not technically be a “human being,” Derek, but you’re still a person. And people...need other people...You got the werewolf thing down pat, but maybe the witch was trying to remind you to work on your human side occasionally. Take care of  _both_  sides.”

“Take care of both sides?” Derek seemed skeptical.

“You know what I mean. Not let one side control you.”

“I’m perfectly in control.”

“Yeah, of your wolf. Can you say the same for your human side?”

Derek seemed taken aback at the suggestion.

“C’mon, Derek. You gotta admit you’re not exactly great in the people skills department. You tend to growl out demands instead of asking nicely. Pushing people around to make sure they do what you want. Even when you know at least  _I_  would be willing to help you without all the threatening. I’m always willing to help you, Der.”

Derek seemed to get it then.

“Being thankful.”

“What?”

“Being thankful. For you. And for Isaac and...probably Scott and Peter, too, though that’s debatable. But, you. Definitely you. The spell was to make me see what I had to be thankful for. And what I have is you. You’ve never let me down, Stiles.”

“...Oh...” Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, even as he felt the blush climbing up his face.

“But, why?” Derek asked, frowning. “Why would the witch want to teach me to... be  _grateful_  and let people know I  _appreciate_  them?”

Stiles observed him for a moment, frowning cutely, seeming to consider the question.

“Derek. Witches are crazy bitches. She didn’t hurt any of us and we managed to break the curse or whatever and you’re back to normal. Are we really going to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“No,” was the short reply.

And then, Derek leaned down and kissed him. Hot, hard, open-mouthed, and slick.

Stiles flailed. Derek was forced to cut short the kiss, when the boy straight up tried to talk through Derek’s lips. Derek frowned down at him.

“Wh-wh-wh-what the hell?!” Stiles shrieked. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“All right. While you’re newfound gratitude is endearing, really, you’re still a smidge novice when it comes to  _explaining_.”

Derek’s familiar scowl made an appearance.

“The last thing...” he gritted out, “that I was thinking about before I went to sleep...was how... _important_  you are. To me.” Half-smirking, he added, “Can’t have the witch cursing me again for not  _appreciating_  you properly, right?”

Stiles gaped. Then, flushed redder than a cherry tomato. He couldn’t seem to find words.

Derek huffed. In retrospect maybe he should have eased Stiles into this a little bit more. Oh, well. Too late now.

He tried again. “I want you, Stiles. Is that clear enough?”

“God, yes,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and pulling him down.

This time he didn’t flail.

Stiles was eager.  _Very_  eager. He nipped at Derek’s mouth and sucked on his lips and dipped his tongue in between Derek’s teeth. Derek let him take the lead for a couple of minutes. Then, he turned the tables.

Derek  _delved_  into Stiles’s mouth, there really was no other word for it. Stiles moaned into the bruising kisses, responding splendidly to the attention.

The werewolf moved down to Stiles’s neck, but not without stopping to bite his jaw a few times first. Beautiful, purple bruises bloomed under Derek’s mouth right under Stiles’s ear, over his pulse point, at the sharp jut of a collarbone.

“Oh my god, are you mauling me?” Stiles managed to get out. 

“Maybe.”

Stiles laughed through his nose. “I’m strangely okay with that.”

Derek grinned.

“No one’s stopping you from returning the favor,” he said.

Stiles responded by licking a stripe up Derek’s neck and scraping his teeth across a well-stubbled jawline.

“I’m suddenly very aware of how naked you are,” Stiles murmured into his throat. “Well, aware again.”

“That a problem?”

“If it is, it’s the best kind of problem,” Stiles purred as he slid his hands down Derek’s muscled back. The skin was smooth and warm under his hands and Stiles suddenly wanted to be wrapped up in it. Only it.

“Clothes,” he breathed into Derek’s ear.

Derek pulled up from Stiles’s left collarbone long enough to ask, “What?”

“Clothes,” Stiles repeated after a pant. “Mine. Off.”

Derek rumbled in pleasure as he complied with the request. He divested Stiles’s of his clothes like he was peeling the wrapper back from a piece of his favorite candy. With new expanses of skin granted to him Derek dove right in.

His hands gripped Stiles’s hips, fingers digging in to lean muscle on the teen’s back. Working along a pectoral he met a rosy nipple with tongue. Stiles whimpered under him and, when Derek’s teeth greeted his sensitive nipple, bucked.

A growl started in the back of Derek’s throat and spread into his chest when Stiles reached down and grabbed two handfuls of firm buttocks.

“Stiles,” Derek rumbled. The werewolf rolled his hips down into Stiles’s. Stiles bucked up into him again.

“Derek,” Stiles gasped, “Derek, I’m not going to last.”

“Then, come,” Derek commanded, gripping Stiles’s cock in a strong grip. Derek’s own cock joined Stiles’s a beat later and he jerked them both while the boy writhed under his ministrations.

Stiles’s head pressed back into the pillow, tilting and giving Derek a delicious view of his pale neck. Taking full advantage of this Derek latched onto the juncture between shoulder and neck.

Fingers twisting into the sheets, Stiles stuttered out, “D-Derek...”

Derek growled, deep and satisfied, and the sensation travelling through Stiles’s chest brought the teen to climax. Crying out Derek’s name Stiles let his control snap. A few more swift tugs and Derek joined him.

Messy and spent both partners collapsed, Derek draped heavy over Stiles, his face mashed into the boy’s neck. It wasn’t long before sleep lured Stiles back into its soft, sweet hold.

~~~

When Stiles woke up again a few hours later, Derek was gone.

“Figures,” he mumbled sitting upright, the sheets falling to his waist. From the looks of it Derek had cleaned him up and tucked him in before making his hasty exit.

Well. Maybe it hadn’t been quite as hasty as Stiles imagined.

He didn’t know what he had been expecting, newfound gratefulness aside, Derek was still Derek. Sticking around when he didn’t need something wasn’t really his style. Still felt like a kick in the pants.

Stiles stood and stretched and meandered into the bathroom. He took a moment to admire the stunning hickeys peppered around his throat and collarbone. Finishing up there he clothed himself and headed downstairs. Derek was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee.

The strangled gasp that escaped Stiles’s throat was completely involuntary.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him from behind his mug. “Stiles.”

“D-Derek! What...I mean, why...what?”

“Are you always this incoherent when you first wake up?”

“I—“ Stiles straightened and swallowed, before continuing. “I didn’t think you were still here.”

Derek observed Stiles with that infuriatingly blank expression for a moment and then said simply, “I owe your dad a conversation.”

“Oh.” Stiles had forgotten about that. Sudden, cold realization hit him low in the stomach. “ _Oh_.” That little talk was going to go about as well as the voyage of the Titanic.

“Are you going to tell him?” Derek asked.

Stiles froze. “About us?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “About werewolves.”

“Oh. Well...yeah, I guess. You said it’s okay, right?” Derek nodded. Stiles shrugged. “We owe him an explanation, might as well be the real one. It’s about time anyway. I just hope he...takes it well.”

Derek nodded.

Stiles fidgeted, hesitated.

“What, Stiles?”

“What about us?” the teen blurted and color rushed to his face.

Derek was giving him that blank expression again. Stiles wanted to punch him.

“What  _about_  us?” Derek finally said.

Stiles's hands formed into tight fists at his sides. “What do you mean  _what about us?_ ” Stiles spat. “You spend a week draped all over me as a wolf, have some sort of major confession, and then jerk me off this morning, enjoying it enough to get off yourself, and you don’t have anything else to say to me?! Maybe about where we go from here or, or what we are to each other?! I don’t even know what I am to you, Derek!”

Derek calmly looked at Stiles for what felt like an eternity, that same frustratingly blank expression on his face. Stiles held his tongue, waiting for an answer. His knuckles turned white from the stress trapped in his tightly coiled fingers. Eyes never leaving Stiles’s face Derek gave him his answer.

“Stiles. You are what I am most thankful for.”

The tension left Stiles like a bubble had burst. Shocked at the answer, Stiles gaped at Derek. With stark clarity he realized Derek was clenching his jaw as he waited for Stiles to say something, to respond to what was for Derek Hale the ultimate confession.

Stiles said the first thing that came to mind.

“Don’t ever leave me.”

A barely there smile graced Derek’s lips and he said, “Never.”

Stiles grinned, a full-blown one, the kind that suited him best. “Never,” he returned.

The hyperactive teen knew they weren’t going to get to “I love you” anytime soon, but he couldn’t complain when they had just made promises like that. He supposed he owed the witch a thank you for making Derek come clean about how he felt, as ironic as that may be. Even though much of the man remained muddied, Stiles could see the armor chipping away and pieces of the real Derek shining through. Because for all the shadows Derek surrounded himself in, for all the darkness others shoved onto him, Derek was still warm on the inside. He didn’t have the heart of ice most would assume he did when they saw how mercilessly he handled most situations. No, it was well hidden and well protected, but his heart burned warm and bright. Stiles had seen as much, had even worked his way in through some combination of loyalty, stubbornness, and mistakes. The snarling, snapping teeth of Derek’s wolf couldn’t keep Stiles away from the human parts of Derek anymore.

And for that, Stiles was grateful.

~~~

Deep in the woods an aging witch smiled. The curse had been broken and so had a werewolf’s conviction to keep himself permanently alone, even as there were people around him struggling to get close.

A whisper on the wind passed and the witch answered it with a quiet laugh.

“It was nothing. Anything for a friend.”

Another breeze passed, carrying a question.

“Yes, well. If I hadn’t made myself a threat, he wouldn’t have responded so well, now would he?”

The wind gently brushed at the witch’s hair. She smiled softly at it.

“You’re welcome, old friend. Rest in peace.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> http://mommymuffin.tumblr.com/


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